Drizzling through the evening and cool enough for jackets, a fire,
and tea.

photo: grass lines

I am fascinated by the patterns that have formed in our lawn. At
first I thought they were pressed into place by sleeping deer, but
now I’m not so sure. They might have just happened this way. I don’t
know if you can tell from this smaller version, but like cloud
shapes, they almost make sense. They tease the mind’s eye
and tickle the imagination into finding order, meaning or motion
where perhaps (?) there is none.